Chapter Twenty-Five:

Truth

Chris stared blankly at Josh for a moment, his brain not quite processing at its optimal capacity. Then instinct took over. He dropped the shotgun, which swung back down on its strap to thwap against his thighs, and crossed the space between them. His fist connected solidly—and loudly—with Josh's jaw.

Pain flared through his knuckles, radiating up his arm and he shook his hand. "Fuck. That hurt," he snapped at Josh.

"Jesus-fuck, dude!" Josh rubbed his jaw and glared balefully at him. "Yeah it did."

"No, it hurt me," he said, holding up his hand, the knuckles reddened.

Josh's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious? Cry me a river. You punched me in the face."

"You deserved it."

"Really? The first time you see me again and you punch me in the fucking face?"

Chris shrugged. He refused to feel bad about it. He refused. "You deserved it," he repeated. Then he stopped and squinted at Josh's face. Was there something wrong with his glasses? He took them off and rubbed them on the edge of his shirt. Putting them back on revealed no change. "Uh… what's up with your face? You look like you're halfway through makeup to be the Joker."

"I don't want to talk about it."

He snorted. "Yeah, no. Fuck that. I just traveled half a continent to come get you, since apparently you're a goddamn cockroach who can't be killed. You lost the chance to 'not talk about it' when you decided to make me saw you in half." Okay, that was a bit more of a word and emotion dump than he had intended to say, but seeing Josh was overwhelming. He was wearing that same fucking outfit, too. The one from before everything went to shit. The one he'd been wearing tied up to that wall, with the saw coming at him. Actually… "How are you wearing that? Didn't it get all bloody from your insanity?"

"Second set of clothes. Only thing I could find easily after S—" Josh frowned and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "After the guys found me in the mine. I—ah—like the gun? Good look. Very 'monster hunter.'"

"Yeah, that was the idea." Now that he was here, he was blanking on everything he wanted to say to Josh. Honestly, most of him had been totally convinced that they would be lucky to even find his corpse. Yet here Josh was, right in front of him. Chris wasn't sure whether he should punch him again or just hug him as tightly as he possibly could. He forced a snort and returned to an easier topic. "Seriously though, what's up with your face?"

Josh grinned humorlessly. "Long story."

"I have time."

Suddenly Josh lifted his head, his nostrils flaring. "No. You don't. We should move."

"What? Why?"

The other man gestured towards the shotgun. "Because the reason you brought that is nearby. And, no offense, but I don't think the gun is really going to save you."

Chris scowled at him. "Bullshit. You just want to get out of answering my questions and you have no fucking right to expect that. You don't get to have me just follow you blindly any more. I came all this damn way. You owe me answers. You owe me the truth."

"If I'd known you were going to be such a little bitch, I wouldn't have stopped to say hello." Despite his flippant words, Josh looked anxious. His eyes darted around the forest and he looked tense, ready to run at a moment's notice. "Seriously. We should go."

"And where do you suggest we go? Because you're not allowed to leave my sight. I trust you as far as I can throw you, and my athletic abilities have not improved since I saw you last." Seriously. If Josh tried to leave without him, Chris would shoot him. Not to kill, obviously, but, like, in the leg or something. Then Josh would have to talk to him.

"Oh my god, you're such an old woman. I'm not trying to ditch you," Josh hissed, keeping his voice low. "But there is something big and it's nearby. If you don't want to end up monster chow, we should go."

Casting his mind around for an option, Chris shrugged. "The lodge? The others have a saferoom there, right?"

Josh straightened, his face suddenly cold. "No. I'm not going back there."

"Why not? Isn't that where the others will be?" He was echoing Emily's logic, but it no longer seemed quite so objectionable. He felt vaguely guilty for not chasing after Ashley, as he had been, but with Josh here… he hated to admit it, but it skewed his priorities a bit. "I think that's where Mike and Sam are, at least. And Emily and Jess are headed that way. So why wouldn't—"

"I said no," Josh snapped.

Chris flinched, then felt his face flush with anger. How fucking dare Josh pretend like he had any right to be a dick or boss him around? He should be groveling right now, not ordering Chris around like a goddamned sovereign lord. "Either give me a reason or that's where we're going, Josh. Now."

The two men glared at each other. It made the air feel thick around Chris, but it tasted sweet all the same. Somehow, being here, fighting with Josh… it made him feel real again. Whole. The way he was before. Before he'd been stupid enough to get wasted and pass out the night the twins died, before he'd had to pick between Ashley and his best friend, before his entire life had shattered. Back when he'd been young and fearless and stupid.

Finally, Josh deflated slightly. Chris suppressed the urge to pump his fist in victory. Josh dropped his eyes to the snow-crusted ground. "I… I had a fight with Sam. I did something bad. I can't see her right now."

Chris nodded. He wouldn't press further, not right now. Josh had given in a little and that had to be enough for the moment, especially since he was sure Josh was telling the truth about the wendigo being nearby. "Okay. Then where do we go?"

"The closest place to go is the shed."

"The… the shed?" Chris shook his head slowly. "No. Nuh-uh. Nope. Not a chance in fucking hell, dude."

"I answered your question. Now let me keep you alive a little longer, yeah?" Shoving his hands in the pockets of his vest, Josh looked at Chris again. He looked tired and sad. The wound at the side of his mouth seemed almost too red against his skin.

Swallowing hard, Chris nodded again. "Okay. Let's go."

He trailed behind Josh, jumping at every sound. For the most part, their path seemed direct, although every now and then, Josh would freeze or take an odd little detour around an area that seemed straightforward. Chris didn't question it. For his part, he couldn't see any sign of the monster and he was more than happy to keep it that way.

And there it was. His own, personal nightmare. The moment he saw the splintered wooden slats, his blood ran cold and he felt his chest tighten painfully. He didn't want to go inside. Everything about this place meant death: Josh's fake, now-headless corpse, the memory of Josh's babbling, the errant bullet holes left from when he'd failed to save Jack Fiddler.

He didn't even realize he'd stopped walking until Josh turned back to him. "Come on. Let's get inside."

"Fuck you," Chris growled, brushing past him and into the shed.

"Buy me dinner first," he heard Josh mutter as he bolted the door. Looking around, though, Chris wasn't sure he believed this place was any better than being out in the woods. It was falling to pieces, with rusty pieces of garbage—that were probably once useful items—hanging from the rafters. He remembered the way one had almost cracked his skull open and grimaced. This place was a death trap. He'd almost rather let the wendigo chew his face off.

Almost.

"Now what, asshat? We just camp out here forever and hope it starves to death before it eats one of our friends?"

"Your friends."

"Our friends," Chris corrected pointedly. "Don't do this shit, dude. Don't pretend like you don't give a fuck. Because you might want to play all dark-and-brooding-guy-in-the-shadows, but I know what you really are."

"Devilishly handsome?"

"An overly sensitive egomaniacal asshole who, despite torturing your friends past the point of sanity, still somehow looms large enough in their thoughts to warrant a whole goddamn rescue party from Death Mountain. Appreciate how fucking lucky you are that they still want to rescue you after the stunt you pulled."

Josh stared at him blankly, then grinned. "So I am devilishly handsome?"

Scowling at him, Chris fought the urge to punch him again, with moderate success. Fine. If Josh wanted to play that game, he just wouldn't talk. Chris folded his arms over his chest and glared at the wall in silence.

"Hey." Josh strolled over and kicked at Chris's foot. "Cochise. Hey."

He shook his head.

"You're being kind of childish, you know."

"I'm being childish? Me. Really. You're an idiot."

The other man smirked. "Got you to talk though."

Chris threw his hands in the air. "There's no way to win with you is there?" At the sight of Josh's smug smile, he jabbed a finger into his chest. "That isn't a compliment. It doesn't make you a winner. It just makes you an asshole. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with you? Is your brain just totally fucking broken, you psycho?"

The silence was heavy. Every word he had said left a foul taste in his mouth. Chris chewed on the inside of his cheek. It was too late to take it back and he wasn't even sure he wanted to. But the echo of his words still sat on his tongue and made him want to throw up. It was everything he'd sworn he would never say to Josh. They didn't talk about it, but he knew about the suicide attempt, the hospital stay, the medication… You couldn't spend that much time with someone and not know. Psycho. Broken. All the things Josh had been afraid he was—Chris had just confirmed it all. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nausea. And yet, he also felt justified. Josh had tortured him. Josh had come up with the worst, sickest possible scenarios and forced him to live through them. He'd even loaded them with gore, which he knew Chris hated more than anything else.

Wind whistled through the damaged walls. Finally, Josh looked at him again. "You hate me."

Unable to think of anything to say, Chris nodded. It wasn't the whole truth, but it was part of the truth. He wouldn't lie about it.

The unmarred side of Josh's mouth quirked up slightly. "Finally."

He shoved himself away from the wall. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I said 'finally.'" Josh said simply.

"Finally. Finally? What, you want me to hate you?"

Josh just shrugged, face impassive.

Slowly, Chris shook his head. Memories flashed through his mind. Josh in all black, drunk off his ass and shouting at the girls' funeral, being escorted out by Bob. Josh, not even telling Chris he was dropping out of school—just not showing up one day and never coming back. Josh, never answering Chris's texts or emails, though he continued to send them even after starting college. Josh, showing up out of nowhere to invite him back to the lodge and the way he had described it as "tying up loose ends." Josh, shoving Chris into Ashley as if he was playing a desperate match-maker and the odd way all of the 'pranks' had been designed to drive Ash into his arms.

A replacement, whispered a little voice in the back of his head. An upgrade.

He shuddered. "Fuck, dude. Your brain really is broken. You want me to hate you?" After helping Ash for so long, he was familiar with the symptoms of a panic attack and, fuck, he felt like all of them were crashing down at once. But it wasn't a panic attack so much as an intolerable, confused rush of forty emotions at once and he felt like he was drowning.

Josh shrugged again, then smiled. "Probably for the best, really. You don't want any of this. Trust me. I don't want any of this and I am 'this.'"

He had punched Josh before and his hand still hurt from the impact. Now he was moving again, registering Josh's slight flinch but the set of his jaw that said he planned to take it. Rather than punch him, though, he threw his arms around Josh, crushing him in a hug. "Dude, you're alive. And you might be a manipulative dick, but you don't get to tell me how to feel."

"So you don't hate me?" Josh's bewildered voice was muffled against the shoulder of Chris's coat.

"Oh I totally do." The other man smelled like old blood and pine. Chris didn't even question it. It was still Josh. No matter what, it was still Josh. "But unlike one of your dumb characters, I don't have only one emotion."

Josh's body shuddered and his arms closed around Chris's back. "Dammit, Cochise."

-o-

"The mines are way less cool than I was led to believe," Ashley grumbled, trudging after Matt. They hadn't found any marks so far and she was starting to worry they were getting themselves lost. Then they'd just be sitting ducks for the monster when it decided to come back down. She tried not to think about how deep they were getting in the mountain; she'd always been mildly claustrophobic and it was far too easy to imagine a cave in or something that would get them trapped down here, just like Josh had been. And as much as she tried to reassure herself that her friends would never let her get stuck down here, the monster's speed and teeth loomed too large in her mind to be discounted. Flamethrower or not, shotgun or not, it was so much more powerful than they were.

"Weren't you down here before? And who said they were cool?"

She glared at him, folding her arms over her chest. "No one. But I hoped they would be."

Matt laughed, then pointed ahead excitedly. "Look!" He rushed forward and shone his light on the wall. There were two arrows, pointing the same direction. A blue one and a green one, bright against the stone. "This way!"

They followed the path of blue and green arrows as it wound through the tunnels. It was surprisingly simple to do, which immediately put Ashley on edge. Nothing up here was easy. Ever. There was no way this would just lead them straight to the door they were looking for—

"A door!"

The redhead blinked at it. There it was: an iron door, just sitting there in front of them. She followed Matt and finally let herself smile. Soon she'd be back with the others. They were stronger as a unit, where they could all have each other's backs. Not that she wasn't happy she was with Matt—if there was anyone she'd want to be stranded with, Matt was high on the list—but she wanted Jess's flamethrower, Sam's surety, and Chris, with his lopsided smile and awful puns.

The door looked different than she remembered, but it was so long ago and she'd been so amped up on adrenalin and fear and exhaustion that who knew what it had really looked like. She stepped up next to Matt and tried the handle. It didn't want to budge. "Can you get it open? What if it's stuck?"

Not bothering to answer her question—which, if she was honest, was largely rhetorical, since if it was stuck they were totally fucked—he grasped it securely with both hands and heaved. The door stuck stubbornly, then gave, shooting out towards them and nearly sending Matt sprawling. He brushed off his hands and grinned at her. "See? No problem."

"So that's why people like athletes," she teased. "I get it now."

"Next thing you know, you'll be a cheerleader."

She giggled. "Yeah right." A cold breeze blew in through the open doorway, which made her shiver and smile. After the sullen air of the mine, it felt amazing. "Shall we? We still need to get the others, find Josh, and figure out the whole cure thing."

"Is that it?" Matt stretched his arms over head and sighed in satisfaction as his shoulders made cracking noises. "That's nothing. Walk in the park."

Pointing at him, she smiled broadly. "I like your optimism. You can be the cheerleader."

"Sure. Have you ever tried that shit? It's an incredible workout." Together they headed through the door and up the narrow flight of stairs.

They emerged into a rubble-strewn hallway. Filthy windows let dim light filter in to cast strange shapes across the tiled floor. Ashley froze in place, then slowly turned her head to look at Matt. His eyes were wide and he looked slightly stunned. "Um… this is not the lodge," he said softly.

"No, I don't think so." Ash forced a nervous laugh. "Still, though. Not like there's definitely a ghost here, right? I mean, why would Hannah be mad… at… us…" She bit her lip and shook her head at her own stupid words.

"She's not here," Matt said quickly. "Obviously. It's daytime. The girls said she wasn't around during the day. So we can just go back down the stairs and—"

A metallic clang echoed up the stairs.

Ashley laughed again, a little hysterically. She could hear it in her voice, but there was no way to stop it. Oh, they were so very, very doomed. "That was the door closing."

"Yep."

"We're going to die."

"Probably."

"Well… shit."

She looked around wildly. It was still daylight. That was something. And really, neither she nor Matt had actually orchestrated the prank, so when you really thought about it… Ash sighed. That logic was so full of holes it might as well be a colander, as her Mom would say. "Um… okay. I have an idea. First we have to get outside."

They passed quickly through the hallways, trying not to make too much noise. There were birds around, though, and at one point Ashley spotted a squirrel vanishing through a broken window. That alone was enough to make her feel slightly better, especially when she remembered the dead silent forest of earlier. From the windows, she thought it might be getting towards dusk, but it was hard to tell. Wandering through an open, rubble-strewn room, Matt pointed out a door that looked different than the others.

It matched Emily's story and opened onto some kind of outdoor hallway, a path enclosed by chain link. It wasn't hard to find the gap in the fencing Em had described.

"Are you sure about this, Ash?" Matt hugged his arms around his chest, shivering in the cold. "I mean, I won't stop you, but if what Em said is true, then…"

She smiled with what she hoped was confidence and not just naivety. "We need info, though, right? I think I've pretty much exhausted Fiddler's journal and we know next to nothing about Hannah. If what Em said is true, then this thing knows something about her. At least a little something. And I speak French."

"You do?"

Chewing on her lip, she nodded. "A little, at least. I did the French track in school. Four years, including AP."

"'A little'? That sounds like more than a little."

"Hey, did you come out of Spanish fluent?"

Matt laughed. "Okay. Fair enough."

She stepped carefully through the gap in the chain link, braced for anything. Her feet crunched as she tried to keep from stepping on any of the actual graves. It was hard to tell where they were, for all that there were wooden markers. Fresh disturbances she assumed were Emily and Jess were barely visible under the fresh snow. Matt climbed through after her, looking more than a little nervous about the whole thing. She really, really hoped she wasn't getting them both killed.

Nothing happened.

Squinting up at the sun, Ashley frowned. Was it too early? Did it only come out at night? Or maybe it only came out when Hannah was around. That would be really inconvenient. Or maybe she should just say something. That's what always scored you points in fairy tales—being polite. You gave bread to the old lady in the woods and she'd make your tears turn into diamonds or something.

"Um… bonjour?" She instantly had Beauty and the Beast stuck in her head. Ignoring it, she continued, dredging up every old memory of long study hours that she could. "Bonjour. Je m'appelle Ashley. J'aimerais vous poser quelques questions si vous avez le temps." Hello. My name is Ashley. If you have time, can I ask you some questions?

The graveyard was very quiet. There was no sign of the birds she'd seen earlier, nor any other animal. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. Sparing a glance to Matt, she saw him shake his head and shrug. He had no more ideas than she did. She tried again. "Je pense que vous avez rencontré mes amis plus tôt?" I think you met my friends earlier?

She wasn't sure if it was actually getting colder or if it was her imagination. It was hard to tell if there was some kind of unnatural chill when you were already outside in the Canadian winter. Maybe this was all a futile exercise. She and Matt should head back to the lodge quickly and try to find the others before it got dark. They'd be sitting ducks for the monster or for Hannah, whichever found them first.

"Enfant, je n'ai que du temps."

Ashley yelped and clapped her hands over her mouth, flushing red. She had been waiting for a voice, yet it still made her jump. From the corner of her eye, she saw Matt spin in place, looking for whoever had spoken. But there was no one visible, just the empty graveyard and the snow that was once again starting to drift slowly downwards. Child, I have nothing but time.

She was doing it. She was talking to an actual ghost.

Holy shit.

"Uh—" Matt gestured for her to keep talking, his eyes wide. "Merci?"

A soft chuckle rolled through the graveyard and made her hair stand on end. It wasn't particularly unpleasant, but something about it set off alarm bells in her head. "Je n'ai rien encore fait."

Okay. First things first, she figured she'd try to mend fences. Obviously it hadn't hurt Jess or Emily, but still… "Je suis désolé pour ce que mon ami a fait." I'm sorry for what my friend did.

"Elle ne savait pas. Elle s'est excuse." She didn't know. She said she was sorry.

"Good. I mean… bien. Êtes-vous un protecteur?" Ashley didn't really know how to phrase it. Are you a protector? That would hopefully get the spirit of her question across, at least.

"Je suis le premier. Je suis celui qui est resté."

That confirmed her theory. It was whoever was buried here first. "Il n'y en a pas d'autres?" There are no others?

"Il y en a d'autres sur cette montagne. Ils ne sont pas les bienvenus ici. La fille de la rage n'appartient pas ici."

Her eyebrows shot up. There were other ghosts on the mountain. Technically, she'd already known that, but having it confirmed was a totally different situation. 'La fille del a rage'… Hannah? The angry girl? That made sense. "Tu as vu Hannah—we want… uh…" She fumbled for the words in French.

The laugh came again, louder than before. "Tell me what you want to know, fille," the voice said in affectionate, heavily accented English. "I do appreciate the attempt to speak to me with such courtesy."

Matt's head came up and he stood straighter. He opened his mouth to speak, then shook his head and gestured hopelessly to Ashley. It was on her to explain. "Thanks. Um… Thank you. We… the angry girl. That is our friend. We want to help her. Or at least stop her."

"She will kill you, fille. That is what she is good for now."

"No, but there must be some way to stop her," Ashley insisted. "Help her with unfinished business or burn her body or something."

"You have listened to too many of your grandmother's stories." The spirit's voice was firm. "She will kill you. That is what is most important to her now. She is lost in death, as they all are."

She started to object, but Matt jumped in before she could. "There has to be a way. She's our friend."

"Yet you stink of guilt."

Matt bristled. "And we're trying to make it right. We're not going to run away just because she wants to kill us."

"We're not? Um… can we vote on that?"

He shot her a look and she shrugged helplessly. Of course, she didn't really mean they should just abandon Hannah, but she also didn't want to get killed by her. The spirit-thing spoke again: "You are not close enough to her to pull her back from where she's gone. She was one of those beasts. She watched herself devour others and become something unforgiveable. That is a dark place into which you cannot reach."

"But… that means someone else might, right?" Matt started to smile, an idea surfacing in his eyes. "That means that there is a chance, even if we're not the ones who can do it."

"I tire of you, children. Let me rest."

Matt started to talk and Ashley grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight. "Don't piss it off," she hissed. "We got something, at least. Let's go. We might be able to make it to the lodge before dark."

Squeezing back, Matt nodded. Together, they climbed back through the fence.

-o-

"Okay," Mike mumbled, shoving himself back to his feet. "Okay. You can do this, Munroe. You got this. A plan. An escape plan."

The air of the fridge felt heavy and hard to breathe. Again, he worried that it might be airtight and slowly suffocating him. He shook his head. "Nope. Remember. Dickhole didn't want anyone to actually die. Crazy, but not crazy. An important distinction." He was babbling. "Fuckity fuck."

He pulled at one of the monitors and felt it shift. Angling it, he tried to use its glow to look around the corners of the room. For all his effort, he saw nothing new. Just empty shelves, the wire rack with the tape player, and the wall of monitors. "Monitors!" He rushed over to them, looking again for the hole that the cords fed into. It was nothing more than a small hole drilled through the back wall, but it made him want to sing.

It was man-made.

Technically, the entire refrigerator was man-made, but this hole… this was Josh-made. That might be a dumb distinction to make, but boy howdy did it matter to Mike. That meant that an average person could make a hole. And if there was a little hole already, they might be able to make it bigger.

Fumbling with the rack, Mike managed to dislodge one of the shelves. He shoved one of the monitors to the side and took careful aim.

Bam. He slammed the corner of the shelf into the hole. It made the screens flicker as the cords were briefly compressed, but that didn't deter him. He was going to get the fuck out of there even if he killed himself trying. "I'd prefer it if that didn't happen though," he told the wall. Pulling his arms back, he readied himself for another swing.

Bam.

The shelf still suspended high, he froze. That particular bang wasn't one of his. After a moment, it came again, the sound ricocheting around the fridge and making his ears ring. It had come from the door.

He looked quickly to the monitors, but there was no action on any of them. Of course, that didn't mean much. He couldn't see the outside of the fridge from here. Or, at least, he assumed he couldn't. He wasn't sure exactly where he was, so it was always possible that the door was hidden in some way and he could technically see it. Mike grimaced. His thoughts were weaving in a dizzy, uncertain circle and he wasn't sure whether to blame the limited air, the lack of water, or just his own ridiculousness.

Bam.

Rushing to the side, he raised the shelf, readying it as a weapon. It could be anyone—or anything—at the door, and he wasn't going to let either the monster or Josh kill him without a serious fight. "Come get me, fucker," he muttered, ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking slightly.

Bam. Bam-bam-bam.

From the other side of the door, he heard a muffled metallic rattle and then the handle of the door was yanked upwards. The door swung out and open and the sudden flood of light made him hiss with pain, even as he fought to keep his eyes open to see whoever it was. That was the idea, at least, but the full light of the hallway outside was so much brighter than the monitor's glow that he couldn't see a damn thing.

"Mike!" A much shorter force all-but tackled him, arms encircling his waist and squeezing tightly. "Oh god, Mike. I thought you were… I was afraid you…" Sam's body shook as she buried her face in his shirt. The shelf hit the ground with a clatter that neither paid any mind.

His hands were uncertain as he stroked her hair, his vision slowly clearing. "You found me. Thank you, Sam. I didn't know how I to get out. I was trying, but it—it was dumb and I—"

She drew back to look up at him. He drank in the sight of her face, trying to absorb every detail. She was pale and looked tired, her eyes red and raw. He gave in to the impulse and caught her up in a deep kiss. Melting against him, her fingers dug into his back, stinging the scratches she'd managed to leave the night before. The reminder set his heart pounding and he drew pulled back, pressing his forehead against hers with an overwhelmed huff of a laugh. "Sorry. Got carried away."

Sam smiled up at him, her lip trembling. He wanted to kiss her again. "Mike, you're alive. I would forgive you for just about anything right now."

"Oh really?" he said, waggling his eyebrows.

She laughed and smacked his shoulder, then her face abruptly sobered as the reality of the situation hit her again and the giddiness faded. "What happened? What did Josh do?"

Releasing her, he stepped back to let her further into the room. He didn't really want her to have to see this, but she deserved to know. She'd heard about the trap Josh set for the girls already and she'd seen his setup for Chris and Ashley. She deserved to see this too, to see what her friend had done. A tiny, vindictive part of him was glad she got to see it, but he knew that made him an asshole. Not as much of an asshole as Josh, but still.

As she slowly made her way over to the monitors, brow furrowed in confusion, he tried to summarize. "He—ah—he knew something. About us. He kept asking me what was going on between us and I, well, I didn't know, did I? We haven't even really talked about it. So I told him there was nothing going on and he… He attacked me." She looked back at him, bewildered, and he pulled down his shirt to show Sam the nail marks on his chest, then pointed to the scratches on his head. "I woke up here. And…" Mike pointed to the tape player.

The fridge was silent save for the click and hiss as Sam hit the rewind button, then play. They listened to Josh's fake 'Psycho' voice together. Mike was having trouble even processing the words and just focused on Sam's face. Her eyes fluttered closed and her jaw clenched as she listened to the Psycho's plan and the thinly veiled rage as he commented that Mike just takes whatever he wants.

Without letting it finish, Sam opened her eyes and stopped the playback. When she looked at Mike, her eyes were hard and cold. "He's wrong."

Mike shrugged. "Not really."

Her voice was adamant. "He—is—wrong."

He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Sam like this. She'd told him before about how angry she was, but this was different. This was cold and sharp and final. He thought of Josh and of the strange, panicked look in his eyes back when he'd realized he'd hurt Sam in the mine. Wordlessly, he shook his head. This was wrong. This was all going wrong. They'd come back to save Josh and he could see in Sam's face that she was ready to let him die up here.

Catching her hands, he held her in place. "Sam, no. Sam, listen to me. He's not wrong. I mean, I'd like to think that that isn't true anymore, but it was. It was. You know it was. We were friends, Sam, so you saw other sides to me, but I did just take what I wanted. Always. I thought…" He swallowed, trying to find an eloquent way to say such an ugly thought. "I thought I deserved it. So I got Erin. I got Emily. I went along with that prank without a second thought and, I mean, I was cool with it. I think—

"No, I remember. I'm not going to pretend I don't. Hannah, she… She was ready to undress. She started to. And I didn't stop her. Even knowing that everyone else was there." She yanked her hand free and turned away, towards the screens. Mike forced himself to go on. "Listen, you want to know how fucking shitty I am? How about the fact that I left Em for Jess knowing that it would hurt Emily. I even knew that Jess was doing it out of some sense of revenge. I don't know why, exactly, and I never bothered to find out. I just went along with it.

"So yeah, I… Josh wasn't wrong. And he didn't hurt me, Sam. He didn't. He could have and he put me in here instead." A thought occurred to him and he ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. "I'm not even sure he thought the tape player would be here."

She didn't look at him. "You give him too much credit. More than he ever gave you."

"Am I saying I deserved to be tortured? No, not really. But I am saying that he still needs our help."

"Let him suffer."

He shook his head and walked over to put his hand on her shoulder. She tensed, but didn't pull away. "You don't mean that. I know you don't."

"Yes I do." Despite the words, her voice was less certain.

"Let's get him off this mountain. Then I will gladly let you kick his ass, okay?"

Sam let her head fall back to rest against his chest. Staring dully at the screens, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "Promise?"

"Yeah, Giddings. Plus, beating up a dead guy is considered unsporting."

They were quiet for a minute, then Sam spun in his arms to hug him tightly, her face pressed once more against his chest. "I'm really glad you're okay."

"Thanks for finding me. Wait, how did you find me?"

Her answer was slightly muffled by his shirt. "No one padlocks a fridge. Seemed weird. So I took a crowbar to it."

He pressed his lips against her hair. She smelled faintly of lavender, but he didn't care enough to question it. Sam was here. He was free. And that was enough for now.

-o-

"I really don't think we should have ditched him like that."

Emily rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I get it. You've made it clear from the last hundred times you've said that."

"Well I don't."

She stopped and turned to Jess. Poking her in the shoulder, Emily frowned. "Do you want to go back?"

Jess stuck her tongue out, brushing past Em and continuing up the path. "No," she said, glancing back over her shoulder. "Not really. But splitting up at a time like this… It just seems like a really bad idea."

"So far we've all been fine."

"Wow. Okay. And the award for 'most flawed logic' goes to…" She drew out the last word in her best awards show voice.

"To Chris, obviously. Who thought the best plan was to keep wandering around the fucking woods with a monster and just hope for the best."

The flamethrower was heavy and starting to make Jess's shoulders and back feel tight and sore. She just wanted to sit down somewhere and rest for a minute, but the memory of that thing haunted her thoughts. Her own words to Emily, about wanting to see it better, nagged at her, reminding her that she was a total idiot. She had nightmares about her time in the mines, but they were mostly full of shadows and greyish blurs. Had that really been what Hannah turned into? Jesus. A monstrosity of bone and iron-rod muscle, with ashen grey skin stretched tight over the angles of her face?

A shiver rolled down her back that had nothing to do with the snow. Not for the first time, she considered the fact that she might actually die up here. For all her brave words to Mike and the others, she was afraid. There was so much she had left to do and say. She might never have another chance.

She stopped and turned, Emily nearly bumping into her. "Um… hey, Em?" Jess tugged nervously at her braid.

The other girl didn't pause. "Yeah?" She was focused on keeping her footing and stepped around Jess to edge her way up a rocky slope.

This wasn't right. She had to be able to really talk to Emily, not just toss off a comment while they kept hiking. No more time, she found herself thinking. And if there was no more time, she was going to do this. Now. "No, Em, stop for a sec, okay?"

"Seriously? We're going to get eaten. Do you want to be eaten? I seriously do not." Nevertheless, Emily stopped and turned to look curiously at Jess.

"I don't want to be eaten. But I just…" Jess adjusted the straps on the flamethrower just to give her nervous hands something to do. "Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

Em's eyebrows shot up. "You're… sorry?" Her voice was incredulous.

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for seducing Mike away from you—" Emily snorted but Jess ignored it and plowed ahead. "—I'm sorry for the things that I said when we were fighting. I'm sorry for how I reacted after—"

"No." The other woman cut her off sharply and turned away to keep climbing. "Stop it."

The blonde blinked at her back, dumbfounded. Then she shook her head and rushed after her, irritated. Jess grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. "What the fuck? Em, you have to let me apologize."

"No I don't."

The bottom seemed to drop out of her stomach. She bit her lip to try to counter the tears that threatened. "You really still hate me. I mean, I get it. But… Please? I just want… I don't want things to be…"

"I don't hate you. Oh my god, Jess. Pay attention. I said that already."

"Then why—"

Emily's voice was clipped and sharp. "You think you're going to die, so you're saying goodbye. And trying to make amends or whatever." She slowly turned back to face Jess, though she couldn't seem to bring her eyes up to look at her. "I get the impulse. Seriously. I do. But I'm not going to let you do it, because then it's like I'm agreeing that you're going to die. And you aren't. I won't let you."

At this, Jess laughed. "Um… last I checked, I'm the one with the flamethrower. Not really sure how that makes you the one to decide who lives and who dies."

Em didn't laugh. She lifted a hand, her fingers almost touching Jess's cheek, then dropped it. "You aren't going to die. Because I fucked up before and then, like, fourteen more times after that and you're still here helping me for some incomprehensible reason. So I'm not going to fuck up again. And I want to talk about shit and fix things but I can't while we're in the middle of the woods being hunted by monsters—so not happy that this is my life, by the way—so you're not going to die. You aren't allowed to die."

"I forgot that the world takes orders from Emily Davis."

"Damn straight it does." Emily smiled slightly. "Because if not, then I have to apologize too. I'd have to tell you how sorry I am for the way I acted after… after…" Her cheeks flushed and she shook her head, unable to find the right words. "Ugh! I hate this. Apologizing is stupid. Which is why we're not going to do it."

"Fine," the blonde agreed. Her heart was pounding. Fine. If she wasn't allowed to apologize, then she was going to do what she'd been wanting to do ever since she saw Emily again. She didn't give herself time to second-guess the decision. Closing the space between them, she cupped her hands around Emily's face and kissed her.

The other girl was frozen for a long moment, then softened, kissing her back and making Jess's entire being sing with joy. It was just like the first time, after formal when they'd gotten drunk on tequila and watched her favorite old rom-coms. Only this time, Emily wasn't shoving her away the next day. She wasn't alone and cold and broken, dreaming of what had been and desperate to make Emily hurt as badly as she did. Now she was still cold and broken, but Emily was here, in her arms, kissing her back.

It made her feel immortal.

Emily's skin was soft under her fingers and Jess gave in to the urge to pull her closer. Her lips weren't as soft as Jess remembered; they were chapped from the cold and wind. It didn't make it any less sweet. If anything, it meant more to Jess than ever. It was a tribute to everything they'd been through, from the fights to the rockslide to Josh's sadistic trap. She broke away, murmuring her name. "Em, I…"

"I'm sorry," Emily whispered, her eyes closed. The phrase stung Jess, lodging a rock in her throat, but Emily continued. "I'm sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for what I said."

Abruptly, Jess understood what Em had been saying before. The apologies weren't unnecessary—they sounded like a farewell. She kissed Emily again, softly, and smiled. "Stop it. You don't have to apologize."

"But—"

"If you want to make it up to me, I have several ideas. For later."

Em blushed and waved a hand dismissively at Jess. "And we really should get inside," she said pointedly, trying to scowl and failing miserably.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's go. Jeez." Jess couldn't keep the smile off her face. It was hard to be scared when the most beautiful girl in the entire world let you kiss her. "After you."

-o-

It had waited too long.

It knew it and it was furious. How dare they arm themselves and think they stood any chance of surviving? It didn't like the victorious scent of their confidence. It wanted them terrified and running, the silver of their panicked movement breaking up the otherwise monotonous stillness of the mountain.

It watched the girls hike. The one with the tank on her back… she would have to go. So would the boy with the gun that had been such an inconvenience. Then it would destroy the tools and those remaining would be easy enough.

And perhaps it was better that they should have some small, false, temporary triumph. It would make their screams, their terror all the sweeter when it came.

Hooking a hand around a branch, it launched upwards into the tree. It didn't like being in the sun so much, but it enjoyed the freedom of movement outside of the mine.

Soon. Very soon. It would feast. Maybe, for once, the gnawing ache of starvation would be sated.

It doubted that, of course, but one could always dream.